they don’t look too bad. And you’re both in shock.’
‘Is that all?’ I yawned. I couldn’t get used to this idea that when you were in the middle of a terrible fight the police arrived and fixed it up for you. And when you got injured, ambulances came and they wrapped you in blankets and took you to hospital. Where were they when the war was on?
The blonde girl said, ‘There might be an issue with that terrible water in the fountain getting into your wounds. I’m guessing the doctor’ll have a look at that. It’s not the healthiest place to take a bath when you’ve been stabbed!’
‘No.’
I reached for Gavin’s hand but couldn’t find it.
What are you looking for?’ the girl asked. Well, she wasn’t really a girl of course.
‘Gavin’s hand,’ I said.
She connected us up. He immediately gave my hand a big squeeze which made my eyes water (a) because we were friends (b) because he was still alive and (c) because it made me think the ambo girl hadn’t been lying to me and he probably was going to be all right.
I didn’t think I could cope with any more deaths of anyone even remotely close to me. These days I was perfectly capable of sobbing over the death of a heifer or someone’s pet guinea-pig, or a dead rabbit on the road.
OK, I’m lying about the rabbit.
At the hospital we weren’t given nearly as much attention or treated like royalty the way the ambos had looked after us. A doctor checked us and sent us both to X-ray but she said our wounds weren’t life-threatening. She did give us a blast of antibiotics in a big needle — well, she got a nurse to give us a blast of antibiotics in a big needle — and then we waited in a corridor for ages for the X-rays.
When we came out a cop was there, in uniform. He said he’d been sent to look after us. It didn’t occur to me till we were back in the main Emergency section that he might have been sent to stop us escaping, until the nurse who was washing grazes on my arm with disinfectant said, What have you two been up to?’
She asked in that quiet voice, the one that means, ‘Just between you and me.’
Of course I had been busting to ask Gavin what the hell had been going on. I’d been wanting to ask him from the moment the whole thing started, but I’d had no hope. And even now it was impossible. In the corridor we’d been twenty metres apart and now he was on the opposite side of the room. What had we been up to? Just trying to save our lives from a complete maniac who wanted to kill us. Was that so bad? But it wasn’t a random attack. The guy knew Gavin and wanted to take him out. He must have had some reason.
So all I could say was the old favourite: ‘I don’t know.’
Then she asked: ‘Are you in a gang?’
‘What?’
I nearly choked on the word. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or call for a psychiatrist. For her. That’s when I realised the cop might be there to stop us tying our sheets together, end to end, and climbing out the window. Good grief! I didn’t expect medals and the keys to the city. That was one of my dad’s favourite sayings: ‘I’m not asking for a medal and the keys to the city but it would be nice to get a little cooperation once in a while.’
I wasn’t asking for a parade but it would have been nice for someone to say, ‘Hey girl, you saved a couple of lives today, even if one of them was your own.’
‘No, I’m not in a gang,’ I said.
Nothing much else happened for at least two hours. The cop made himself right at home and was soon getting coffees for himself and the nurses. I was ‘nil by mouth’ so no food or drink for me. I dozed quite a bit, then they came and took the ‘nil by mouth’ sign away and ten minutes later I got sandwiches and cordial. I suddenly realised how hungry I was and gobbled the whole lot, even if the sandwiches were mostly white bread with occasional traces of chicken and wisps of lettuce. And the cordial tasted like they’d held a glass of water in front of the cordial bottle for five seconds and then taken it away again. I like my cordial strong.
A different doctor arrived and started stitching me up. He was a chatty guy who looked like he came from India or Pakistan and who spoke in this nice musical voice. He said I was fine, the knife had missed my vital organs, I’d been very lucky, I could go home but I had to take antibiotics because they told him I’d been in water that was probably full of dangerous organisms.
He had me roll over and he put a couple of stitches in another wound. I knew something on my back hurt but didn’t realise it was a second stab wound. I hadn’t properly registered that the guy had stabbed me twice — I’d thought the pain was from another graze.
Gavin was a bit more complicated. While I lay there having a snooze no-one told me that he’d been wheeled away for an operation. I went into total panic when I heard a nurse say something about ‘the deaf boy who’s gone to surgery”, surprising myself by how hysterical I got. It’s embarrassing, but they had to hold me down and then the nurse hit me with another needle and ten seconds later, out I went.
I woke up in a room with a painting of gum trees and a billabong, and there was Lee, sitting next to the bed. ‘Yikes, how long have I been here?’ I asked him. Then I remembered about Gavin.
‘It’s about four o’clock, I think,’ he said, putting down a copy of the Bulletin that looked like it was years old. ‘And don’t worry, Gavin’s fine. He had some muscle damage and he’ll be sore for a while and he’s gonna need a bit of physio. That’s the full story.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Just along the corridor. He’s in 2210 and this is 2220.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘I don’t know. Probably. They let me have a look at him but he was asleep. He had a general anaesthetic. But if you can persuade the nurses, you should be able to waddle along and say hello.’
‘What the hell happened? Who is the guy? What was it all about?’
Lee looked surprised. ‘I was going to ask you that. I don’t know anything, and no-one’ll tell me anything. When I got here they had a cop guarding you but he got a message about an hour ago to say that you probably weren’t on the ten most wanted, so he packed up and left. That’s how I got this magazine.’
‘I’m very happy for you.’
‘Yeah, except he’s already done the crossword.’
‘How did you know we were here?’
‘You put me down as next-of-kin.’
‘Oh did I? I don’t remember that.’
‘So what did happen? I thought I was sending you off for a nice walk followed by a heart-warming reunion for Gavin. Next thing I know I get a message to say some guy tried to kill you both. Is this to do with Liberation? Or the war?’
‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, trying to work it out. My head was a bit fuzzy, because of the injection I suppose. ‘No, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with that. The guy knew Gavin. He was waiting for him.’
I slipped out of bed, determined to clear this up once and for all. Bugger Gavin having a general anaesthetic and being asleep. He could just wake up and tell me what on earth was going on.
I felt a bit woozy but not too bad. Lee grabbed me as I grabbed for the end of the bed but I was OK again a moment later. ‘Sheez, what was in that needle?’ I said.
Off we set, down the corridor. A nurse was at the desk halfway between my room and Gavin’s. She looked at me suspiciously. ‘Now where do you think you might be off to on this fine Saturday afternoon?’
I grinned at her. ‘I just want to see how my partner in crime’s going.’
‘Oh do you now? Well you can turn around and go right back to bed. You had enough Midazolam for a small elephant, so you can wait a bit longer before you go serenading along the corridors.’
‘I only want to ask him a question,’ I begged.
‘You know I read your book about the war,’ she said.
‘Oh you did?’ The first one had been published but the rest were home in a wardrobe. It hadn’t sold enough to satisfy the publisher, so they wouldn’t take the others. It seemed to me that quite a lot of people knew about the book but not so many had actually read it. Maybe it was the title. I thought The War from Hell was quite cute but I guess people who didn’t know Tailor’s Stitch and Hell didn’t get the joke until they were reading the book, and it was a bit late by then.
